The Argosy — page 154: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i Under Northern Skves. 139 beauty upon the water and gilded the crumbling ruins with its magic touch, bringing back life to the dead. Perhaps, too, all the impres- sion of our afternoon’s walk was upon us, and it does not do to multiply impressions too quickly. So, many reasons had conspired to keep us that night at the little inn under the shadow of the ruins : not least of all, perhaps, the fact that the walk, with its winding paths and Jacob’s ladders, had been terribly tiring, and rest had seemed for the present the most desirable thing on earth. Yet we went our way, in spite of all. In spite of the Frenchman who found no resting-place on the slopes for the cows, and who had begged us to keep him company in the solitary inn. But we pointed out to him that though solitary, it was by no means deserted, and though surrounded by desolation without, it was noisy enough within. Our time, too, was limited. And so we had gone our way in spite of Jehu, who evidently left behind him attractions he was loth to part with. But we had no pity for him. We left the ruins clearly out- lined against the sky, gave them a last, long, lingering gaze, listened to their solemn message, and saw them no more. We had ourreward. Thedrive to Allinge, our night’s resting-place, was the most wild and weird bit of scenery we encountered during the whole three days. In broad daylight it would have lost nearly all its charm and effect. Gloomy, grand and desolate, remote from the world and all evidences of life, it made an impression upon us which yet remains. In daylight, also, all the beauty and depth and desola- tion of the little lake would have been absent. Even Sandvig itself might have looked less picturesque and alluring. But in situation it will always be far preferable to Allinge. On we went, through an undulating country, the sea close to us on the left, and always visible. Before long the lights of Allinge shone out in the gathering gloom, and we clattered through the long street of the little town. It did not look half so picturesque as Sandvig, nor half so quiet, whilst there was more pretence about it. Men Lounged about and stared lazily—it was their hour of repose. Work was over for the day for some of them, and had not commenced for those who went out upon the deep and spent their nights toiling. From the open windows of one small house there came sounds of music and song, whilst a small crowd of people, quite fashionable in evening dress, moved about the lighted rooms. A _ golden-haired youth—the jeunesse dorée of Allinge—was bending sentimentally over a syren, equally young and fair, from whom proceeded the sweet sounds. Others were elegantly turning over photographs. All this we caught at a glance as we passed hastily. It was like a tableau vivant, vivid in its impressions, thrown out in strong relief by the light within contrasted with the shadows without—though it was not yet dark. The only wonder was that there should be so much display ; windows open, uncurtained, exposed to the gaze of the loungers, who hung about and peered curiously. Perhaps it is the COnnicboooks Go im